The Sundering
by Tarya
Summary: Mixed Tolkien's and Peter Jackson's version of Arwen story-portrait of her on the way to her wedding


****

The Sundering 

The shrill, clear call of a gull pierced the evening breeze. He rose, scudding the clouds, mocking those who could not follow. With him seemed to blow the very breath of the sea, wild and free. The company of Elves paused for a moment, and looked upon him. For a moment, time stood still. Then the gull was lost to sight and they stirred, as if wakened from a dream. 

*

Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar, drew a shuddering breath and urged her horse forward. Never had she been so unsure of her choice as she was now. Now, at the end, when she should have been rejoicing. For all her hopes, seemingly, had come true. The realm of Sauron was ended, Aragorn was King, and the sign had been given. 

She rode now to her marriage, accompanied by Elrond and a small party of Elves from Rivendell and Lothlórien. Nearly all, in fact, who had not departed for the Havens. Galadriel did not journey with them, saying that her part was ended, and that this was Arwen's hour. Elrond rode gravely, but resigned to the choice of his daughter. 

She put her hand to her throat and touched the white jewel that she carried from Lothlórien. Galadriel had entrusted it to her at their parting, and now she bore it until the time appointed had come. Her mind flew to another jewel, and all the grief and love that had been woven around it. But the voice of the gull rang still in her ears, calling her to a place she could not go. 

Bitter tears stung her eyes, tears for the life she would never know, the father she would never see again, and the fate that awaited her. For one desperate moment, she wished that she had never set eyes upon Aragorn, that she could pass into the West and depart Middle Earth, with all its cares. _And all its joy. _She said to herself. _Nay, this is what I have chosen. Better peace for one lifetime, than regret for a thousand._

****

If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn is made King and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. 

The words of her father returned to her. 

**__**

Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing.

Arwen closed her eyes as the vision returned. Herself, veiled in black, standing before the monument of the one she loved. 

**__**

But you, my daughter, you will linger on, in darkness, and in doubt. As night fall in winter comes without a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief under the fading trees, until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent.

There is nothing for you here. Only death.

Arwen struggled to pull herself from the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her. The sun was just slipping behind the horizon. She lifted her eyes to the towers of Minas Tirith, just now visible in the fading light. A few last rays of gold touched the top of the proud white citadel, banners and standards flew proudly in the wind, and the clear sound of trumpets rang in the air. Trumpets for her.

"Behold, my child." Elrond turned and gazed at his daughter. "Thither is the realm of Gondor, and your future home." Arwen's eyes shone as she looked upon it. Then her face fell and she turned to her father with moist eyes. Elrond laid a hand caressingly on her cheek. "Nay, daughter." he said softly. "I do not grudge your choice. But indeed, Aragorn desires of me what I hold dearest in all this world. Lúthien could have been no more precious to Thingol than you are to me."

He looked quickly away. Every step brought his daughter closer to sundering from her people. _To wed a mortal._ Had he not foreseen it, even when in Rivendell he had first laid eyes on the young warrior and heard of his desire. But such was their choice. Grievous would be his parting from her, but more grievous still was the thought of Arwen, of whom it was said that the likeness of Lúthien had returned again to earth, of what would befall her. The years she would spend in bliss as the Queen of Gondor would pass swiftly, far too swiftly. And then…_she will die and be lost to her kin. But only after much suffering. Such is the gift of Ilúvatar_ _to men_.

But Arwen's heart was full. She rode on, knowing full well what awaited her, eyes fixed on the city that was to be her home. As they drew nearer she heard cries of wonder, and heralds announcing their arrival. The stars burned now with a white fire, pinning back the curtain of the night. Her heart began to beat faster as she thought of who awaited her. Many things had befallen him since last they met. Would he be changed? He was a great king of men now, like to Elendil himself.

They were at the gates of the great city. In a haze, Arwen beheld Mithrandir, and beside him the Halfling, to whom they all owed so much. She felt as if she was slipping towards a hazy dream, trying to hold it off, but being pulled irresistibly into the swirling mists. Dimly she was aware of dismounting her horse and her father taking her hand as they walked forward. She saw a great hall, with a long flight of white marble steps leading to its door. 

And, suddenly, the mists surrounding her cleared and she returned to the waking world. A hush fell over the crowd that had come to welcome them. Elrond and his daughter, Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her people, ascended the stairs toward a lone figure that stood outside the hall. As they reached the top, Arwen's eyes met his, and she had no more doubts. 

*

The gull swept down over the city, his keen eyes resting for a moment on a tall figure placing the hand of a slender elf woman in the hand of a crowned man. The gull paused in his flight, and it seemed to him that the woman lifted her other hand towards him, as if in token of farewell. He cried out in answer, but his call was drowned in the sudden wild ringing of bells and sounds of rejoicing below. The gull gave one last wailing cry, and then, spurning the earth, he vanished into the west. 


End file.
